Paint Shades
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: A little collection of writings to prompts, the prompts being the name of paint shades. All about Lost. Rating may change later depending. A pairing for almost every taste, and many open to almost any interpetation. Please review!
1. Icing Rose

**A/N: The beginning of a series of challenges I've set to myself, to try and stretch my writing. I've taken the names of shades of paint and I'm using them as titles. I'm writing to prompts. The paint names are Taste of Summer, Gypsy Wind, Frost Kiss, Icing Rose, and Wishful Thinking. As I'm always collecting new paint names, the list may grow. Here's the first one.**

**Icing Rose**

So fragile.

He lay there, arms to the sky, a small smile on his tiny face, waiting to be picked up. He depended on someone else for everything… how did that feel?

So soft.

Baby skin, smooth and soft. He gurgled and waited patiently (most of the time patiently) to be held, cared for.

So delicate.

How easy it would be to blot this little life out, squish it, wipe it off the page of existence, a minor character whose entrance had only been made a few sentences before.

So fragile, so soft, so delicate, like an icing rose.

"Shhh… Don't cry Aaron…Don't cry…Mum's here."

**A/N: 105 words I believe. There will be more (and if anyone knows any good paint shade names, I'm up for it!). Please review, and thanks so much for reading.**


	2. Frost Kiss

**A/N: Here's the second one, once again involving Claire. Anyway, please read and review so I don't think I'm just taking up space on this site. :P**

**Frost Kiss**

Claire was putting up curtains.

It was a cold evening, and she was hanging curtains, making the place feel like home. She was happy.

But evening wore on and the night dimmed, and the temperature dropped, and something was wrong.

Frost began to kiss her windowpane, spreading out with amazing speed over the entirety of her window, and it was then that she realized what was wrong.

She'd hung the curtains outside.

The frost touched them, consumed them, and they froze, and fell to the street below, and shattered.

Claire woke up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and remembered Thomas.

**A/N: Well? What'd you think? Should I go on with this little idea of mine, or should "Paint Shades" be scrapped? Review please! Oh, and trust me, Claire isn't the only person involved in these little things. It's coincidence that she's got two in a row.**


	3. Ravenwing

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews guys! This title is from pinknwhiteDQ, who "got out her color wheel" to help me get paint shade ideas. And msmith4815, a Shannon thing is coming right up, although it might not be exactly fantastic. (cringe) I haven't seen all of the first season, and so I don't know a lot about Shannon or Boone. (shrug) Anyway, thanks a lot guys. **

**Ravenwing **

Dark. Glossy. Shining. Like a raven's wing.

Strange, that while he was trapped in a pit, with a net over the top, probably at the mercy of bloodthirsty natives of this island, that was all he could think about.

Sun's hair.

Under threat of death, with gritty grains of sand chafing against his raw, sun burnt skin, that was what he was thinking about.

He never used to like ravens. They always seemed ill omens to him. Dark, black, foreboding birds, often a sign that something had died in the immediate area. But once he met Sun, his image of ravens changed almost immediately. Suddenly they were majestic, glorious, beautiful birds, bold and mysterious.

So now, while he was quite possibly going to be murdered on an uncharted island without warning or explanation, the only thing he could really think about was her hair.

Strange, but he didn't really mind.

**A/N: Thanks for reading and please review. J**


	4. Silver Dust

**A/N: Uh, okay here's that Shannon one. If anyone's wondering why I'm updating so much, that would be because I'm home sick and bored out of my mind. Note the reference to lying on the couch under a blanket? Yeah, that's me:P  
**

**Silver Dust**

Ashes.

Silver dust, the remnants of a once bright, glorious dream.

God, it was like a soap opera.

Shannon used to watch those old soap operas when she was home sick from school. During the day when there was nothing else on but reruns and she was huddled up on the couch with a blanket and a 101 degree temperature. People on those shows, when their lifelong dreams were crushed tended to sit around with hollow eyes, writing in diaries or contemplating the meaning of life. They didn't speak to anyone. They didn't eat anything. They were usually out of tears, cried dry from the horrible incident that had spun them out of control.

Shannon wanted to scream, and cry, and throw several temper tantrums, and then she wanted to eat an entire pint of ice cream, and smash all of Sabrina's little knick-knacks by throwing them at her (Sabrina's that was) head.

That woman - that witch! All she wanted - **all** she wanted - was to do ballet. That was it.

She still couldn't bring herself to understand that it wasn't going to happen. She wasn't going to go to New York. She wasn't going to take an internship. None of this was going to happen, because of **Sabrina**.

Shannon didn't know where she was going. She didn't know what she was going to do. But she knew one thing - wherever it was, it was going to be as far away from Sabrina as possible.

Musing to herself as silent tears ran down her cheeks and she put her ballet slippers into a cardboard box (this really **was** like a soap opera wasn't it?), she thought she'd always liked the thought of Europe. France maybe? Yeah, maybe France…

**A/N: Well, please tell me what you thought! **


	5. Gypsy Wind

_A/N: Next one! This could be from anyone's point of view, as I'm sure you can see. Please read and review! _

**Gypsy Wind**

Luck came, went, and came again. Fickle, unreliable, unpredictable, like a gypsy wind. Always looking for something, or somewhere to settle down, and never quite finding it.

Luck on this island was impossible, and impractical to attempt to create. You could do everything you could, have the best laid plans, and see them dashed to pieces in an instant.

Luck was a back-stabber of a friend, never entirely on your side, ready to strike whenever you turned around.

Luck was something you had to tempt. You had to have everything taken care of and hope for the best, because you could never guarantee anything.

Fate?

Coincidence?

Luck…?

_A/N: I know it's short, shorter than the last one, but what can I say? Oh, and for any/all of you Kate fans (whether it be Kate/Jack or Kate/Sawyer) out there, the next three (count 'em - three) little pieces will be regarding her relationships. If they aren't well received here, well, then I'll just post them as a separate entity. Thanks so much for reading, and please review! _


	6. A Taste of Spring

**A/N: Whoo-hoo, it's Kate. Sorry all you Kate bashers. What can I say? Nothing, huh? Aren't I eloquent...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these people. Did you really think I did? No? I thought not. **

**Taste of Spring**

Spring had always been her favorite season.

She never told anyone that, because she was tough girl Kate, cowboy boots, ponytails, and a stoic expression, never daunted, never frightened.

Spring being her favorite season, it didn't fit with the image she struggled so hard to maintain, through everything - through Wayne especially.

But she'd always loved spring.

Mostly it was the lightness of it. It wasn't summer, sweltering heat and her stuck inside all day wishing there was something to do, confined to her room in fear of Wayne who was home most often then. Spring was cool and refreshing, after winter, to come back to warm breezes and sunny mornings. Spring made her smile.

When she kissed him he tasted like spring.

She wasn't sure how to explain it, he just tasted like spring. Like warm breezes and sunny mornings and freedom. Like happiness, and independence, and a little challenge - come outside, be Kate, what are you waiting for?

When they broke apart spring was abruptly gone, vanished, like the sun behind a cloud. And she wanted desperately to find it again.

She had a feeling she would someday. She'd take a walk on a cool morning, and stumble across spring, wandering around waiting for her. And she'd welcome it back with open arms. For now, she could wait.

Spring had always been her favorite season.

**A/N: The end. :P Please review! Thanks for reading! Come back soon! Thank you for your patronage! Got a little carried away, didn't I? Okay, never mind. Er... Alrighty then.**


	7. Stilettos

_A/N: Okay, I admit it. Stilettos was not the name of a paint shade. It's the only one like that in this collection. So, yeah, I wrote it because I got the idea for it after writing "A Taste of Spring" and "Toasted Marshmallows" (I haven't posted Marshmallows yet). Anyway, please read and review.  
_

**Stilettos**

She was always uncomfortable in stilettos. She hardly ever wore them - only when forced. But once in a while her mum got her to wear them, along with a dress ("try looking like a girl once in a while!") out to some party. Her mother got invited to many of those parties around the town, before she got so quiet, so beat into that quietness. And Kate used to get dragged to some of those parties. In stilettos. She hated stilettos.

Stilettos felt like putting on something just a little bit fake. It felt like cheating. After all, weren't they all about making you taller? They felt like lying just a little bit.

And more importantly, they hurt her heels like anything.

So she usually took them off in some corner after a while. Her dresses were pretty long, and nobody was looking at anybody's feet anyway, what with the dancing and the talking and the eating. So she got away with bare feet most of the time.

It was the feeling of relief she got from taking off those stilettos that she got when she was with him. The huge sigh she could silently breath, and the feeling of being the real her again she felt when those heels came off and she could feel the cool floorboards against her toes. It was that feeling when she was with him.

The feeling of taking off her stilettos and being Kate.

_A/N: Please tell me what you thought! _


	8. Toasted Marshmallows

_A/N: The last of my Kate one shots. This one was a genuine paint shade name, so yeah, I'm back to it. Off my hiatus a little early, so…(does the happy fanfic dance!) _

**Toasted Marshmallows**

When Kate was a little girl, she used to put marshmallows into the microwave and see if she could get them out before they'd explode. It was a little game she played, just to see if she could time it just right.

And while she never admitted it, the most fun was when she couldn't do it. When she was just a little off, and they exploded, little marshmallow bits flying all over the microwave. It was fun to watch them burst from the inside, into little pieces, and stick.

She always had to clean it before her mom got home, but that was okay, because her mom didn't get home until late. So she cleaned the marshmallow off of the microwave and tried it again the next day. Just to see if she could do it. She'd always been a risk taker.

She never told anyone that the best part was to see if the risk would come out the way it was supposed to. A gamble. Sometimes the best part was when the gamble **didn't** pay off.

It wasn't like that with him. With him, every second of the risk was fear, almost terror, and the thought that it might get screwed up, that something might go wrong, that everything would go wrong.

He is spring, and he is taking off stilettos, but he is not toasting marshmallows.

But that's okay with her.

_A/N: Please tell me what you thought. Thanks!_


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